No Time To Explain:FrancoFile: Author has never been on the farm. "It started with a photo of a male cow named Texas Tornado who had a particularly fluffy coat. "Fluffy cow" photos are now making the rounds."

I was 15 or 16 and my mom and dad, my uncle, and my three cousins went to Butler's Orchard to getsome pumpkins and apples and such. Down the hill was a farm and on the farm was a bull. Being thatI was 15 or 16 and stupid, my cousin and I decide to go under the fence to pet the thing.

So we get there and he's docile enough. He let us pet him, no snorting or pawing or anything like that.When we turn to leave though, I hear this noise behind me and a heavy weight claps down on both ofmy shoulders.

Can you guess where this is going? The stupid bull decided he liked me and had put his front hooveson my shoulders in an attempt to ... um ... get leverage.

I yelled and it startled him enough to where he backed away for a moment. Needless to say, we hauledass back up the hill as fast as we could after that.

So let this be a lesson, ladies. Strange bulls, like strange men, are not to be petted. They take it as asign that you want to fark 'em.

I was 15 or 16 and my mom and dad, my uncle, and my three cousins went to Butler's Orchard to getsome pumpkins and apples and such. Down the hill was a farm and on the farm was a bull. Being thatI was 15 or 16 and stupid, my cousin and I decide to go under the fence to pet the thing.

So we get there and he's docile enough. He let us pet him, no snorting or pawing or anything like that.When we turn to leave though, I hear this noise behind me and a heavy weight claps down on both ofmy shoulders.

Can you guess where this is going? The stupid bull decided he liked me and had put his front hooveson my shoulders in an attempt to ... um ... get leverage.

I yelled and it startled him enough to where he backed away for a moment. Needless to say, we hauledass back up the hill as fast as we could after that.

So let this be a lesson, ladies. Strange bulls, like strange men, are not to be petted. They take it as asign that you want to fark 'em.

So when you're loading cattle onto a truck, you have to get behind and push. Where do you suppose Captain Kangaroo's sidekick Mr. Greenjeans got his moniker?

Try that image on for size.

I saw that, but it wasn't loading the cattle onto the truck when it happened.

In one of the more memorable episodes of my misspent youth working on a large cattle ranch, we had to wean and load 300 calves that had been running in clover. Clover has a profoundly purgative effect on bovines. I made the mistake of being the closest on the first load and ended up being the pusher for the day. The particular pasture we were working was about 75 miles from the home place. By the time I got home at the end of a 20 hour day, pulling my jeans off removed all the hair on my legs with the efficiency of a Brazilian - but with a lot more pain.

I was also very hungry. For incomprehensible reasons, the local greasy spoon refused my patronage - even though management welcomed all the other cowboys. And I lost my appetite when they brought me a meal to go but the only way to eat it was on my lap.

I have a lot of fond memories of working on the ranch. That is not one of them.